


Along for the Ride

by stelliferous_sky



Series: Age of Galra (Invasion AU) [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Alien Invasion, Earth is taken over, Flirting, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Keith does/has done some questionable things, Keith is done with Lance's BS, M/M, Major Character Injury, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Beta Read, Not that graphic anyway, Rating is for swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 07:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17483783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelliferous_sky/pseuds/stelliferous_sky
Summary: A list of things Keith wants to be concerned with:1. Destroying furry purple aliens that took over his planet.2. Eating his canned food in peace.A list of things Keith wants nothing to do with:1. Lance McClain who he regrets saving.[The story of how Keith and Lance met in the aftermath of the Galra invasion.]





	Along for the Ride

**Author's Note:**

> I was meant to be editing chapter 2 of Transcendent so naturally this baby happened. I also now have some idea of what I want to happen in this universe so hopefully I can write more very soon.
> 
> For now, I apologise that it's more of a flashback than anything but I was super motivated to write this.
> 
> Also, I know nothing about New York City but this is set in the future so really, does anyone know anything about New York City?

_Two years before_

  By the time a dozen alien equivalents of soldiers were chasing Keith through darkened alleys of downtown Manhattan, it was probably safe to assume that things had gone sideways. All he wanted was a look at what’s happening inside the facility the Galra had overtaken. Okay, a look and possible chucking a grenade into the building but that never happened, evidenced by the fact he was currently hauling ass across muddy, abandoned streets with gunfire whizzing past him.

  So much for little acts of rebellion.

  A purple laser beam flashed way too close to his head for comfort as he rounded a corner onto what he hoped was a more secluded area. Under normal circumstance when chased by a band of thugs out for his blood, Keith would lead them into a crowded area to shake them off. But considering any crowded areas that remained were occupied by furry purple aliens, it probably wasn’t a good idea now.

  So Keith swung himself over a corpse of a car and broke into what used to be a grungy Chinese takeaway that he frequented before, possibly the only shop that didn’t care about faces on WANTED posters appearing in its humble abode.

  The sentries were still on his tail, just outside the shop and slowly making their way over. Keith slipped into the kitchen, turning on all the gas stoves to the max and quietly made his way out the back door, dropping into an alley that stank of a lot different substances even through the mask that covered half his face. The door had come off its hinges long before the Galra invaded three weeks ago and destroyed the hell out of... well, almost everything. Back against a stained wall, Keith peered inside, taking a box of matches from his pocket.

  He heard the shuffle a moment too late.

  In a heartbeat, his knife was against the person’s throat but there was also a gun at Keith’s temple. Different coloured eyes stared back, left one blue, right one brown and both shining under the blue neon light from the end of the alley. At any other moment, Keith would probably have admired the sharp cheekbones and the constellation of freckles across warm brown skin. But this wasn’t exactly a great situation, seeing as Keith was about to blow up a building.

  A clank came from inside the shop.

  Keith hissed in the guy’s face, “Get out of here.”

  Smart guy, he saw the box of matches, eyed the shop, took his gun off Keith’s temple and back away slowly like Keith might chuck the dagger at him. Then he took off without a second glance.

  Keith lit the match, tossed it through the open door and ran.

*

  Two months after that incident, Keith had learned to not get caught, had learned to listen for the whir of drones overhead and the thudding pattern of sentries’ footsteps. He’d learned where to strike to take them out completely and he’d learned that he was more capable with blades than he originally gave himself credit for.

  And that it was so much easier to ~~shoplift~~ go shopping when the supermarket was abandoned. Heck of a lot easier to park his hoverbike too when there wasn’t security to check the plates, or the existence of plates at all.

  Keith had just finished stuffing three bags full of probably-expired cans of food and had inched out onto the aboveground parking when gunfire went off and a cry echoed from the street below, surprisingly close. He ducked behind the crumbling brick rails, crawling forward to get a better look.

  Three Galra sentries raced towards a fallen figure struggling to heave themselves back on their feet. Keith expected them to finish the person off; it had been weeks since the Galra last took prisoner from the streets for labour camps or slavery. But two of the sentries lifted the person from the armpits and started dragging them off, alive.

  “Let go of me!” a male voice grunted, following by a vicious spat in Spanish. Keith didn’t understand all of it but the words he got were enough to give a general idea.

  Whoever this guy was, he had something the Galra wanted and Keith wasn’t going to let them have it. He raced to his bike, shoved the clacking cans into the compartment under the seat and hopped on, hand reaching for his collection of throwing knives at his belt. The hover whirs to life gently but in the quiet night, it might as well have been a foghorn. But it didn’t matter.

  He revved the bike off the second story parking lot, two knives already flying. One found its mark right in a sentry’s head, frying the circuits but the other struck through a shoulder of another, dropping the guy to the ground. The two open fired on him but their aim on moving target was about as shitty as a stormtrooper’s – another lesson Keith had learned.

  He evaded the lasers on his bike, a few bullets scraping past the metal, and he finished off the two with his dagger, slicing right through the neck. They joined their friend on the ground.

  And also the human, Keith supposed as he hopped off the bike.

  The guy groaned as he tried to flip himself onto his back and failed. Kneeling beside him, Keith helped him over to assess any wounds, drawing out another string of colourful Spanish curses. The giant bloodstain below his ribs didn’t look good and it was even worse under the army-green jacket he wore. As gently as he could, Keith lifted up the dark blue sweater to reveal an ugly burn that’s torn through the side of his stomach, but thankfully far away from his vitals.

  “It’s you,” the guy rasped. “Knife guy.”

  Keith looked up, and then froze momentarily in realisation that he knew this guy. This was freckle guy with different coloured eyes that were currently squeezed shut in pain.

  Keith never fancied himself a charitable guy and he’d left his fare share of knife wounds even before the invasion with no second thought. But now he found himself shrugging his jacket off and doing his best to wrap it around the wounded guy’s waist to staunch the blood, an act Keith would reflect on an unhealthy amount in the future.

  “Hey, can you sit?” he asked.

  “Lol, no.”

  Keith failed to understand how any of this was funny. “Look, more sentries will arrive in less than five minutes. We need to go. Can you sit on a bike?”

  Freckles smirked through dazed eyes. “Hey, I usually get to know the person before I ride them but I can make an exception for you.”

  Keith’s face went up in flames. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Freckles laughed then groaned loudly, clutching his side. “Yeah, I can sit. I think.”

  The moment Keith helped him get on the bike, he had the strangest feeling that he was making a huge mistake – honestly, what kind of idiot flirts while bleeding to death? The answer was: the same idiot who got himself shot in the first place.

  Yet Keith had cleared the place long before reinforcement arrived on the scene.

*

  During the five minutes ride back to Keith’s place, Freckles fell unconscious, hands going limp around Keith’s waist. It was a challenge to ride but Keith somehow managed with one hand on the handle and the other holding Freckles steady and paying close attention to the warm breaths on the back of his neck.

  Keith’s hideout was the very top floor of a six-story condo without elevator access but lucky for Freckles, he had stashed supplies on every single floor except the ground floor.

  Laying him on a half-burned mattress, Keith dressed the wound as best as he could, plucking out buried memories of what his father taught him years and years ago. Then he searched for any hidden weapons and only came up with an empty military issued handgun and a dog tag around his neck.

McCLAIN

LEANDRO D.

078-07-1283

ARTEMIS

  That was a surprise. This guy looked barely old enough to be seventeen before the hollow cheeks and deep-set eyes from obvious hunger since the last time Keith saw him. Not to mention his ribs were poking through his skin. Keith didn’t think too much about it.

  What he did think about was the uncannily smooth skin and soft wavy hair. (Keith gave into temptation at one point and poked at it and then scoffed.) Clearly an Upper West Side boy. That would also explain his poor survival skills, judging by how skinny he’d managed to get in two months when literally every mall was left for plunder.

  Hours later when the sky started to lighten, Freckles came to, letting out a soft whimper.

  “You alive there?” Keith asked, toeing the mattress.

  Freckles groaned, rubbing his face. “Fuck. I definitely don’t feel alive.” Then, as if he just realised what was happening, his eyes flew open and jerked up, falling back down with a sharp cry halfway.

  “Don’t move,” he warned. “I don’t have extra bandage if you bleed again.” That was a lie but Keith would rather not waste what little supplies he’d managed to scavenge.

  Freckles looked down at himself, settling a hand on where his wound would be. “You helped me,” he mumbled, sounding a little surprised as he looked up with knitted eyebrows.

  “Yeah.”

  He eyed Keith warily. “The first thing I learnt out here is that it’s every man for himself. Why help me?”

  Keith shrugged, suddenly not wanting to admit that he saved him simply because he didn’t want the Galra to have what they wanted. “You needed help. And now you owe me one. Leandro McClain?”

  “What?”

  Keith nodded at the dog tag he’d fished out of the turtleneck and now laid on his chest. “Are you Leandro?”

  “No,” he answered curtly. “That’s my brother.” That made more sense. “I’m... Lance. You are?”

  “Keith Kogane.”

  Lance’s eyes caught sight of the cans of peas Keith had yet to take up to his permanent abode on the top floor. As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly and he gave a sheepish grin. “So Keith, um, would you, uh, spare one and I’ll owe you two? I haven’t eaten in three days.”

  Keith looked at the gaunt face and ashen skin and maybe he was feeling a little charitable lately. Or maybe Lance was just cute. Whatever the case, Keith grabbed a can, a spoon from the kitchen and then helped Lance up to eat. “It’s for free,” he told him, then watched the other boy’s face light up before he devoured it.

  “Why were the Galra taking you hostage?” Keith asked.

  Lance shrugged, not looking up. “Dunno. They said something about my eyes before they started chasing me. Like, I know they’re pretty but damn. I didn’t know they were that gorgeous.” He said this with a wink, which made it hard to believe that he didn’t know.

  So Keith had rescued a 24/7 shameless flirt, not just delirious-with-pain shameless flirt. Great. “What are you still doing here?”

  “Um. You kind of took me in, you know?” Lance gestured at himself. “I can go if you want but are you really gonna kick an injured guy out there?”

  Keith nearly smacked himself in the face. “No, I meant the city! In case you haven’t noticed, half of it is crawling with aliens and the other half is totally abandoned. All the survivors ran.”

  “Not all. I mean, you’re still here.” Keith just made a face and Lance sighed. “Fine. I’m looking for my family. They were in the city when attacks started so I’m trying to find out where they’ve been taken.”

  “How do you even know they’re alive?”

  Lance flinched like Keith sprinkled salt on his wound. “They are,” he said lowly.

  Keith wouldn’t understand. “Well, have you found anything?”

  “Not yet. But I’m gonna find them.”

  “Okay.”

  “What are _you_ doing here?” Lance asked.

  “Trying to survive and take down the Galra one at a time.”

  “Oooh, watch out!” Lance sang, wriggling his eyebrows. “We’ve got a rebel in the house. You’re going around saving dudes in distress too?”

  “Despite my better judgements, I made an exception for you.”

  Lance put a hand on his chest dramatically. “Aw, Keith. You wound me.”

  “No, I saved you. Are you done eating?”

  Lance flipped the can upside down and not even a single drop of water came out. If Keith hadn’t been watching, he’d assume Lance licked the can clean. Keith usually ate one can for two meals. “Good. I’m going now. Your coat is over there. Feel free to leave whenever.”

  “Wait, you’re gonna leave me here?” He actually sounded a bit panicked.

  “Yeah. I’ve reached my limits for acts of kindness.”

  Lance stood with a wince. “But I thought we were friends now!”

  Keith, bags of food in one hand and his knife in the other, turned around as he reached the door. “We had, what, half a conversation? How are we friends?”

  “You saved me and fed me! We totally bonded.”

  “In that half a conversation, you hit on me twice! I don’t befriend creeps.”

  “I can tone down the flirts to just one per conversation.”

  _Jesus fucking-_ “No.”

  “You don’t want me to do that? Keith, I’m getting mixed signals here. What-”

  Keith slammed the door in his face, simmering with the need to slam the door again. This was why he operated alone. So much easier to handle and no pointless human interactions that- His face. What the fuck. It was burning. Was he... _blushing_?

  He pressed a cold, gloved hand to his face and growled as he marched up the stairs.

  Keith holed himself in his place all day, like he usually did. Daytime wasn’t ideal for spying or stealing, but it was perfect for sleeping and eating his newly acquired food in peaceful solitude.

  When Keith left the building for the evening, Lance was still in the room Keith dumped him in. He poked his head out the door and said hi, significantly more toned down now. Actually, he looked kind of pissed but Keith didn’t question it. He continued on his way, sure Lance would leave soon.

*

  Lance didn’t leave. He kind of just...lingered.

  Actually, Keith wasn’t sure what he did or how he was eating (if he was eating at all) but he seemed to always be there whenever Keith passed the first floor. He would say hi without fail and ask things like, “How was the mission?” and “Rescue anymore peeps in distress?” More often than not, the words would be plastered thick with sarcasm and Keith would give equally sarcastic answers like, “Oh yeah, mission was great. Didn’t have to save any creeps this time.”

  At first Keith didn’t really care because it wasn’t like Lance was annoying him _incessantly_. But then one night, Keith grabbed a can of soup and a (smuggled) Galra blaster before he went out and wordlessly pressed them into Lance’s hand without ever meeting his eyes.

  The night after that, Lance invited himself onto Keith’s bike and grumbled, “I haven’t forgiven you for being an ass.”

  “Well, you haven’t thanks me for saving yours.”

  But by some strange turn of events, they silently rode off and returned with three dozen metaphorical sentry heads under their arms collectively even though Lance went off to do his own thing and Keith did too. It was some sort of unspoken agreement of which the terms were unclear but understood.

  Something along the lines of: _we can share the pool but you stay on one side and I’ll stay on the other._

  “I totally killed more than you,” Lance said as they stopped in front of ‘his’ door.

  Keith rolled his eyes. “You wish.”

  “Oh, is that how you wanna play it, mullet?”

  “Mul-”

  “Tomorrow night. Nine o’clock. You and me.” Lance stuck out his hand, a challenging glint in his eyes.

  Later, this would be one of those moments Keith replayed in his mind when he couldn’t fall asleep. He would question if the alarm bells had started ringing at this moment but the thundering of his heart drowned out the wails.

  Keith took the hand. “You’re on.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Kudos and comments are always very much appreciated.  
> You can stalk me on tumblr at [hano-does-fandoms](https://hano-does-fandoms.tumblr.com)


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